The Story of the Ears

It still hits me suddenly sometimes just how perfect and adorable Patrick is. He'll smile up at me and I have to swallow that lump in my throat that catches me off guard that is awe at his beauty. Somehow genetics have smiled on him, and he seems to have gotten the absolute best aspects from both me and Matt and skipped over the ones we're less proud of.

I'm not sure what I expected when he was born, but each hour I held him in the NICU, as I slowly got to know my son, I found more and more things about him to love. Matt and I were both first attracted to that perfect little button nose that has always cried out for a "boop" (where Matt or I will tap the end of his nose and say "boop"). It wasn't long after when I began to marvel at his perfect little lips. I have never seen lips with such a perfect shape to them. If it's possible, I think I even envy my son his lips.

Then came the day when his eyes finally settled in to the shape and color they are now. Even now, those eyes are breathtaking. People just can't help but comment on them. They are perfectly spaced around his perfect nose, typically wide open, the most beautiful shade of blue, and expressive. I love staring into his eyes; he seems to be talking to me more through them than he can with his mouth right now. Those eyes tell me he loves me more than anything else he can do or say.

He's turning into such a ham, isn't he?

And I still remember the first day we got to hold him for very long without his hat on. It kept falling off (he's never liked those types of caps), so the nurse decided he was probably fine without it and left it in his incubator. That was the day I started being obsessed with his ears. I really, really liked his right ear. It had this unusual little lobe that was sort of connected to his face and sort of not. It's hard to describe. I remember being somewhat stunned when I looked at his left ear, though. It suddenly struck me that they were different. My perfect baby wasn't perfect.

Right earbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbbb Left ear

The more I scrutinized these ears, the more upset I got. My otherwise perfect baby was deformed. I realize now just how silly those thoughts were, but I was trying so hard to convince myself that he was completely normal and had no reason to stay in the NICU that this devastated me. If he was deformed, he wasn't perfect; he wasn't normal.

I tried everything I could to not show my disappointment to Matt or the nurses or my parents when I called them. I'm pretty sure that even now they don't realize how I struggled with this at first. The more I saw him, though, and the more chances I got to look at his ears, the greater the obsession grew. And very slowly I grew to actually like his ears.

Now I love those perfectly adorable little ears. Yes, his right ear doesn't perfectly match his left ear. I love it anyway. Actually, I love it because of its difference, not in spite of it. I love that he's not absolutely perfect in every way. I never should have put those kind of expectations on myself or him. He is unique, not exactly like every other baby. I also know that if I can love an ear because it's different, I will also be able to do the same for Patrick. He will grow up different from every other kid because he's not any other kid; he's Patrick. And I will love him and those differences, no matter what they may be. I will love him because he's mine and because he's perfect to me.

Nope, he's not crawling--just hanging out on his belly